


i guess im on my own

by jonphaedrus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Gen, M/M, Parent Death, Psychological Trauma, ffxv spoilers up to iris joining for the first time, i still havent watched brotherhood, what do you MEAN regis and clarus didnt raise their kids as siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: “Thank you for driving, Ignis.” Her voice is muffled as she says it. He’s a better driver than her father, who never lost his temper but would start gritting his teeth and anxiously pressing on the gas and muttering things about what the point in being royalty was if he still had to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic until their dad was pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning about why didn’t he just drive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> regis and clarus raised their kids as a cohesive adopted sibling unit and youll take this from my cold dead hands
> 
> title from fob's "growing up"

Crammed in the backseat between her brothers, Iris feels about seven again; not seventeen. It’s been years since they’ve driven out of the city, with Noct and Gladdy on either side of her. The last time they did, her brothers were both so much smaller. She had elbow room, back then. Now she doesn’t, but its ok.

Arms linked through her brothers’ elbows, Iris leans her head on Gladio’s shoulder and sighs, smiling. “Looking at the Regalia really reminds me of home.” It’s been a part of their family as long as she can remember. Some of her earliest memories are of her dad leaning in to help her do up her seatbelt and ruffling her hair before getting in the passenger seat, and the way it felt to be big enough to get put in a seatbelt of her own, rather than riding in Gladio’s lap.

“It sure doesn’t look like any of the cars you see around here.” No, it doesn’t. _Sophiar custom job,_ says her father’s pleased voice in her head. _One of a kind_.

Iris laughs. “And it’s a lot roomier, too! I can’t imagine trying to cram five people, including Gladdy,” her brother makes an unhappy noise but doesn’t correct the nickname, “into one of those things. Have you ever ridden in one?”

“Can’t say that we have.” Iris sticks her tongue out at him. Like he’s ever ridden in anything _else_. At least she and Gladio actually rode in non-royal cars. Sometimes.

“There was barely enough room for our luggage!” She admits at last. She hopes it doesn’t sound like there was more luggage than there were people—but she didn’t have time to grab anything. She had been in the palace in the residential wing getting ready for the fête after the signing when everything had happened, and Cor had run in, blood all over his face and breathing hard, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her out crying and confused. _We have to go_ , Cor had said, brusque. She hadn’t known until later that—

“Thank goodness,” Iris says instead, plastering a smile to her face, “you guys could give me a lift!” Gladio’s always been able to cut right through her; he pulls his arm out from where their elbows are linked and tosses it over her shoulders, tucks her over into his chest.

“Think the others made it to Caem alright?” Caem...she knows he and Noct went there a few times, when they were very little, but she’s never been. Only heard their parents talk about it.

“I suppose we’ll find out when we get there.” As Ignis says it, he glances forward around the car in front of them and accelerates, pulling past them and waving briefly to let them know he’s coming through. As they speed up, Iris hops up onto the back of the cab, holding Gladio’s hand and smiling as the wind hits her hair.

“Father would be _so angry_ ,” Noctis chides under his breath, and she shoves her brother in the back of the head, rolls her eyes.

“Yeah,” she replies, “but he’s not here, so you’ll have to be angry for him.” Noct is opening his mouth to say something stupid, about which he has no room because he rides on the cab all the time, when they come around the next corner up and Iris gasps, leaning forward and pointing ahead. “Whoa, check it out!” Prompto whips around to see what she’s pointing at. “That’s the Rock of Ravatogh. I’m, like, ninety percent sure.” Gladio bursts out laughing at her.

“Not a hundred?” Prompto grins too.

“You _almost_ know your stuff!”

“All thanks to Jared.” She blurts it without thinking, and all the fun is gone out of it again, just like that. For a few, fleeting moments she can forget that this isn’t just a roadtrip to Caem; that she isn’t just riding around with her brothers like they’re all kids again and she’s still a part of the team. And not—

Cor rushing her out of the palace and her pulling on his arm as he’s gathering Crownsguard, putting her with people. _Where’s my dad?_ She asks, holding onto his sleeve. _Cor, where are my parents_?

Iris takes a deep, deep breath. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t. Cry.

Instead, she just slides back into the backseat and tucks her feet up underneath her, leans on Gladiolus’ shoulder, presses her face into his arm. He holds her tight, and she feels a little less lonely for the next few minutes as Ignis drives, too-careful as always. “Thank you for driving, Ignis.” Her voice is muffled as she says it. He’s a better driver than her father, who never lost his temper but would start gritting his teeth and anxiously pressing on the gas and muttering things about what the point in being royalty was if he still had to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic until their dad was pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning about why didn’t _he_ just drive.

She can tell he’s smiling as he says, “Pleasure.”

“Are you the only one that drives?” She knows both her brothers can, their dad taught them when they were younger than she is now, adamantly refusing to let their father teach them anything behind the wheel.

“I can drive!” Prompto says it, and Ignis groans; there’s something they aren’t telling her there.

“And so can I,” Noctis sounds a little defensive. Iris punches him in the shoulder.

“I _know_ that, dummy.” She rolls her eyes.

“It’s not like Iggy’s the only one who can drive. He’s just the only one we can trust.” Iris knows when Gladio is grumpy over something, and he definitely is right now. Iris laughs.

“Wow!” She jabs Noctis in the side again, and he shoves her hard back into Gladio, who shoves her right back as she laughs, like they’re all kids again. “Are they that bad?”

“Not bad at all! Right?!” Noctis snaps, shoving her into Gladio again, who does the same back until they’re trading turns bouncing her wildly around the backseat. This is the point where their father would slam on the brakes and turn and glare at them with his steely eyes and say quite seriously that he would have them all arrested in the name of the king if they didn’t stop jostling the car, for goodness’ sake, trying to pretend that he wasn’t smiling as Iris shrieked with laughter. But he isn’t here now, and their dad isn’t here to shove him back into his seat, just like her brothers are doing with her.

“Right!” Prompto agrees, and Ignis growls under his breath. Prompto looks nervous at the sound, and Iris resolves to bother one of her brothers until they spill the beans on whatever stupid thing he did _this_ time. “But there’s no way the big guy’s taking any chances with his little sister in the car.”

Iris sticks her tongue out. “Eugh.” Her dumb brothers. They’re both squishing her again but have stopped shoving her, and she’s kind of glad for it—she’s no delicate spring flower, but Gladio especially is stronger than he thinks he is, and stronger than he was when they were kids. Even Noct, who has always been the tiny one, is bulking up. Arm slung around her shoulders again, Gladdy bumps his head into hers as she sidles back and forth.

“Sure you don’t need a break?”

Prompto is craning over the back of his headrest again, arms thrown over the leather. “You are sandwiched in back there!” She’s used to it, though. It’s like being a kid again, when her parents were untouchable and her brothers were her heroes.

“Have Prompto suffer instead.” Noct suggests, and he blanches. Iris tries to perk herself up.

“Really, it’s fine! No suffering here.” Not from where she’s seated, anyway. She likes pretending she’s a kid again, on a road trip with her family. Like they’re going out to Hammerhead to see Cid and Cidney, who always showed her the coolest things, with her parents bickering over the radio and her dad rolling up the roof the minute it looked like rain. Her throat hurts and her eyes burn. Ignis, glancing into the rearview mirror to look at her, pauses.

“If...you say so,” he settles on, and Iris tries to nod, but she feels miserable and subdued, and she hunches over, takes in a few wet breaths. Ignis looks worried, and slows his foot on the gas, craning over his chair. Her father would be _so_ mad. “Iris?”

“I’m all right,” she lies. Her voice is shaky as she speaks, shaky and wet and she’s going to start _crying_ again. She barely cried even as—Jared died. She hasn’t cried since Cor shoved her into Monica’s waiting arms, and took her gently by the shoulders and had to tell her what had happened. She’s barely cried since Cor said _your father is dead_ and Iris had cried, in agony because if one was dead it meant the other almost certainly was too, if Cor was here with her it meant that she was the only royal still in Insomnia, since her brothers had gone to Altissia so Noctis could get married and if Cor was there with her and the _king_ wasn’t—

Cor had softened. Had pulled her over to press her face into his chest. He felt real, when nothing else had.

“I’m sorry,” he had whispered, voice cracking. “Clarus died at the signing. I’m...not sure about the king. But our magic is gone.”

Iris remembered screaming, holding onto his coat lapels and screaming and crying. She remembered feeling hollow and raw and terrified, lonely and young and scared and—

“Hey Ignis,” Gladiolus says, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Pull over.” Iris tries to deny it, tries to shove him off, tries to stop, but Ignis is already pulling the car over, and it grinds to a halt.

“I’m sorry,” Iris sobs, shaking, and climbs over Noct’s legs and out his side of the car, out of the Regalia that is still her _father’s car_ not Noctis’ car, and runs to the edge of the highway. It’s only four feet or so above the ground, and she grabs the railing, vaults over and lands hard in the grass and turf below.

 

 

Gladiolus and Noctis find her curled up miserable in a copse of trees maybe fifty feet from the highway, their footsteps loud in the undergrowth. “Go away,” Iris murmurs, into her knees more than to them, but they don’t. It’s Gladio that comes over and crouches down next to her, unballs her, and pulls her into a tight hug. Her fingers catch in the back of his shirt, and she shakes hard as she tries to stop sobbing, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, she just starts to soak his shoulder. Noctis is right behind him, and the prince settles down on the damp grass, not caring about ruining his pants. “This is so stupid,” her voice cracks. “I should be s-stronger than this.You guys...you aren’t crying.”

“You think we weren’t?” Noct rubs her back. “Gladio had to yell at me about it when we saw Titan because all I was doing was moping. And...we didn’t even have it as bad as you.” His voice drops slightly, and Gladio lets her go, lets her settle damp and tear-stained and miserable back onto the ground, pulls out a handkerchief and wipes her face off. His jaw is tight as he does it

It’s what their dad used to do. “We weren’t there,” Noctis murmurs. “We just...found out. All of a sudden.”

“Better and worse,” Gladiolus admits, hands her the handkerchief. Iris unfolds it, and sees their dads initials, and almost starts crying again. She just blows her nose instead. “We didn’t believe it, at first. Everyone just...gone.”

“I didn’t even know it had happened.” Iris feels miserable. “There was supposed to be this whole party with all the visitors, and Dad knew I didn’t want to go because I wanted to come with you guys on this trip, but he’d convinced me to go to the stupid party anyway after the signing because Father was _livid_ about the whole thing, and he wanted someone to be there to make him happy so he didn’t spend the whole thing stewing, and I was going to wear that dress he’d given me—with the gold and the bows? And I was getting dressed and then there were just. Explosions, and I knew something had gone wrong. And there was screaming and fire outside in the city and these ships, everywhere, and the palace rocked and...then the next thing I knew the Marshall was just sprinting in covered in blood and he dragged me out and. I didn’t even get to ask. I didn’t even...get to see them. Or say goodbye. Or anything.” She’d kissed her dad on the cheek that morning after checking his fresh haircut for him, but she hadn’t seen their Father in...days. He’d been too ill to leave his rooms except for council meetings for weeks, from all the damage to the Wall, and she’d asked her dad to tell him good luck.

And now she would never see King Regis again.

“I don’t even know what happened,” Iris whispers, leaning her forehead against Noct’s shoulder. “I can’t even tell you what happened. Even if I wanted to” He holds her tight, their foreheads pressed together. “That’s the worst. I don’t even know how they died.” She can guess. It’s not hard. The Amicitia have one job, and it’s to be bodyguards. Clarus probably died taking a strike meant for his king, died so Regis could live. And then after—something else had killed their father. Had killed him and just. “I miss being a kid,” she cries, sobbing as Gladio wraps his big arms around both her and Noctis. “I miss Father driving the car and tailgating people in traffic and complaining that there should be a better fast lane and Dad pointing out he could just as easily set aside funds to building a carpool lane and making him turn something other than opera on in the car because it hurt Noct’s ears and you two shoving me in the backseat and...I just.” She swallows, hard, once.

“I just. Want it to go back to normal. I just want everything to go back to normal.” She hates that it makes her sound stupid and childish. She hates it. But it’s true.

She just wants to wake up tomorrow in her own bed in the palace, to her Dad needing help with shaving his head, to their Father stomping about the Amicitia apartments out-of-sorts in the morning and chiding everyone about everything because it’s rainy and his leg hurts. She wants to ride around in the Regalia with Noctis and Gladiolus, she wants to hang out with the Glaive and she just.

“Me too,” Noctis says, like it’s the most private, awful thing he’s ever thought. Her brother never cries—he shouts but he never cries, and he cries now, curled around her protectively, for both of them. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t—I don’t know if I _can_.” He shakes. “I don’t know if I want to. What good’s all the wisdom of the ages if you become king and your parents are dead? He never...he never told me anything, never said it would feel like this. He just said I would be ready and I’m _not_ ready. I can’t protect Lucis or the world, I can’t save anyone. I can’t—I can’t even _drive_ right.” He sobs, raw and broken, and Iris holds her brother tight. “And they knew!” His voice cracks, angry as he says it. “They both _knew_ Iris! He told me when I left to walk tall and—they knew and they didn’t tell us. They knew they were going to die and just. Thought we would be okay with it! I would rather have known than just. Been fed-up about being coddled, rather than snapping at them! They couldn’t trust us to be adults knowing they might die but now they trust me to just—fix everything?”

“I had so much I wanted to ask them.” Even Gladio’s voice shakes, and his sobs are deep in his chest. “About—the Old War. About what I was supposed to do, with Noct, if things got bad. About what he would have to do when the time came. I just. I feel like we just stopped being kids, and now—“

And now they are all orphans. All of them.

They cry together, a tiny knot. Finally, Iris pushes both of them off, and wipes her face on the handkerchief again, hands it around. She lets Gladio help both of them up, and they all tuck in together, letting their big brother be big again for just a minute.

“Do you think Dad was happy?” Noctis asks, head tucked up under Gladiolus’ arm, his black hair a mess. “I mean. At least…he did his job.”

“I think I would be,” Gladio nudges him with his hip. “Even if I just gave you five minutes more, I’d be happy. Id’ve done my job.”

“I’d been saving that dress,” Iris moans, scrubbing her eyes. It had been her birthday gift from their Father, the year before. “I kept telling him I was going to wear it when the time was right. And he kept trying to convince me it was the right time, telling me I’d grow out of it when I got to be as tall as you and Dad, and I didn’t wear it. And now he’ll...never see me in it.”

“When we get Insomnia back,” Noctis promises, grabbing her hand tight in his, “You can wear it to his grave. I bet he’ll see.”

Iris sniffs. Nods. “I hope so,” she agrees. “I’m going to wear it every day, once we stop running. All the time. I think they’d like that.”

“So,” Gladio asks, curious as they climb back up the rise to the highway, where Prompto and Ignis are waiting with the car, “Are we gonna tell Ignis that the King was a crappy driver, and that’s why we keep making him drive? To give the poor brakes a break?”

“Na.” Noctis laughs. “I don’t think he’d think it was very funny. Dad never did.”

They all laugh and it’s—

It’s not okay.

But it might be someday.


End file.
